The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut down at night, Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay, Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco. The pipe that is so lily-white, Shows thee to be a mortal wight; And even such, gone with a touch, Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco. And when the smoke ascends on high, Thinke thou beholdest the vanity Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe, Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco. And when the pipe grows foul within, Think on thy soule defil'd with sin, And then the fire it doth require. Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco. The ashes that are left behind, May serve to put thee still in mind, That unto dust return thou must. Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by THOMAS CAREW WOODNOTES: 2 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON IN ANSWER TO MR. POPE by ANNE FINCH THE OLD CHURCHYARD OF BONCHURCH by PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON IN A BYE-CANAL by HERMAN MELVILLE |